Mitch: Sorry, your seatbelt seems to be broken. What do you recommend I do? Cab Driver: I recommend you stop being such a faggot. You’re in the backseat.

Woman: [holding a grocery bag] What are you doing? Frank: You tell anyone about this and I’ll fucking kill you. I’m kidding, I’m kidding, we’ll have him home by midnight.

Therapist: Frank, this is a safe place. A place where we can feel free sharing our feelings. Think of my office as a nest in a tree of trust and understanding. We can say anything here. Frank: Anything? Well, uh I guess I, deep down, am feeling a little confused. I mean, suddenly, you get married, and you’re supposed to be this entirely different guy. I don’t feel different. I mean, take yesterday for example. We were out at the Olive Garden for dinner, which was lovely. And uh, I happen to look over at a certain point during the meal and see a waitress taking an order, and I found myself wondering what color her underpants might be. Her panties. Uh, odds are they are probably basic white, cotton, underpants. But I sort of think well maybe they’re silk panties, maybe it’s a thong. Maybe it’s something really cool that I don’t even know about. You know, and uh, and I started feeling… what? what I thought we were in the trust tree in the nest, were we not?

Mitch: At this point, you might be asking yourself, ‘why am I holding this 30lb. Cinder block in my hands? You might also ask yourself, ‘why does this cinder block have a long piece of string tied to it? And finally, why is the other end of this string tied securely to your penis?